The Psylocke Chronicles
by William Logan
Summary: My own vision of how Psylocke could come into the X-Men: Evolution universe... more to come!!!
1. Part 1 - Meet Your Mates

The Psylocke Chronicles  
By William Logan  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, it belongs to Marvel entertainment  
  
Note: This is merely the way I see Psylocke coming into X-Men: Evolution. If the actual writers decide to do it any differently, that's fine by me (just as long as they do it!!! I wouldn't mind Gambit coming aboard, either, people! Okay, that's enough ranting.... on to the show) This story is rated PG-13 for graphic violence in later chapters  
  
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PART 1  
"Meet Your Mates"  
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The girl walked through the halls of Bayville High, fumbling to keep the text books she carried from falling in a giant heap on the floor. Her purple-dyed hair hung down in her eyes, partially blinding her. She had already bumped into more than one person, but aside from her pride, had gotten by unscathed without dropping any of her books. She finally made her way to her locker and cautiously freed one hand to unlock it, precariously balancing the books in one arm. A few students stood back, watching her, a couple snickered, and some just merely walked by. None of the teenagers, however, offered her a hand. When the locker door finally swung open, it bumped into the stack of books, causing them to crash onto the floor. Laughter erupted in the halls as the purple-tressed girl bent to pick up the fallen literature. She bit her lower lip to hide the embarassed frown as her cheeks turned quite red.  
  
"Here, let me help you," a boy finally said, crouching down next to her, helping her gather her things and arrange them neatly in her locker. She looked at him and smiled, tucking her slightly curling hair behind her ear. She looked at him, he was quite handsome, tall, with a rather charming smile and neatly combed brown locks. One thing was peculiar about him, however, he wore nearly opaque red sunglasses which seemed to shine with an inner fire.  
  
"Thank you," she said quietly, her upper-class British accent quite apparent, "I'm Elizabeth Braddock... I'm from England. Exchange student. You can call me Betsy, if you like." She blushed even more, her hands shaking a bit. Nerves, she supposed. She pulled her biology textbook out of her locker and closed it.  
  
"Scott Summers," he replied, smiling and shaking her hand. She was pretty, he noticed from behind his crimson shades, but it was obvious that she was extremely shy and seemed to have the tendency to trip over her own two feet, "I hope you like it here in Bayville. Need help finding your class?"  
  
"No, but thank you," she said, "I can manage myself just fine."  
  
"Scott!" Betsy saw another boy come running up, his dark hair a shaggy mess, and his pants pulled down almost to his knees, a rather stupid fashion trend, Betsy thought, it made guys look like morons who didn't know how to pull their pants up all the way. "Scott," the new boy said again, "come on, ve're going to be late to class!"  
  
"All right, Kurt, I'm coming," he replied, looking back to Betsy, "I hope to see you around. Was very nice meeting you," Scott said as he was yanked away by Kurt.  
  
"It was very nice meeting you, as well, Scott," she said, her lips curling into a smile. She took a deep breath and grinned some more. She might just very well end up liking it here.  
  
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Betsy had made it through biology and history without any further embarassing incidents. Now it was time for the biggest challenge for the new student... finding a table in the school cafeteria. She eyed the contents of her plate, mashed potatoes, pale green beans, and some unidentifiable meat byproduct drenched in gravy, with a bit of distaste, but she figured that she had to eat. She carried her tray through the cafeteria, looking out for an open table. Most of the students had already grouped off into their respective places. The jocks, the nerds, and the outcasts were all at their respective tables, with no room for Betsy at any of them. Then, finally, she spotted Scott, who was waving her over towards his table. She smiled and waved back and headed over in that direction. Scott was sitting with a few friends, Kurt, a pretty red-headed girl, a younger girl in a pink sweater with dark haired pulled up into a high ponytail, and a dark-skinned boy with blonde-dyed, close-shaven hair.  
  
"Join us," Scott said, gesturing to a chair in between the girl in the pink sweater and Kurt, "everyone, this is Betsy Braddock. Betsy, this is Kurt, Jean, Kitty, and Evan."  
  
They all exchanged "Nice to meet you"s and then went back to eating their lunches.  
  
"So, are you, like, enjoying your first day here?" Kitty asked Betsy in a cheerful voice.  
  
"It's been all right," she admitted, "not everyone around here has exactly been as friendly as all of you."  
  
"Vell, the students hereabouts aren't always receptive to 'the new kid', trust me, I know," Kurt chimed in.  
  
Suddenly, a carton of milk dumped its contents over the German's head. He stood up, glaring at the offending milk-carrier. "Vhat was that for, Pietro?!"  
  
The white-haired boy shrugged and smirked, "For not following my fashion advice last time I saw you, blue boy," he winked and headed over to his usual table, around which sat an extremely large teen, another teen with dark hair and a leather vest, and a sickly-looking teen with abnormally large, yellow eyes and green skin.  
  
"Who are they?" Betsy inquired, lifting a forkful of mashed potatoes to her mouth.  
  
"They call themselves the Brotherhood," Scott answered, frowning, "they're a bunch of losers, the four of them. Not exactly the kind of people you'd want to make friends with. So, where are you staying while you're here in America? A relative's place?"  
  
"Actually, I'm staying at the Xavier Institute," she replied. Glances were exchanged between all the collected students of the aforementioned school, realizing that the girl must have been a new recruit for the X-Men brought in by Professor X.  
  
"Really?" Scott asked, smiling a bit, "so it seems we have even more in common than we thought... we all live there, too."  
  
"So, like, what can you do?" Kitty asked in a hushed tone.  
  
//I can read people's minds... much like your Professor Xavier// was the reply the collected mutants heard reverberate inside their heads. As it always was, it was something of an uncanny experience... it took quite a bit of getting used to.  
  
A few moments later, the bell rang, signaling that classes were about to begin again. The X-Men stood up from their table and discarded the remains of their unappealing meals, heading for their classes, each thinking to themselves that it would be quite interesting having Miss Braddock on the team.  
  
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Please R&R, more chapters to come soon! :) 


	2. Part 2 - Fitting In

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PART 2  
"Fitting In"  
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Betsy was breathing heavily as she dodged yet another giant metallic sphere as it rolled towards her with sickening speed. Her violet locks were plastered to her sweat-covered forehead as she leaped and avoided being hit by the lasers that now fired at her. As she was in mid-air, one of the crimson lasers hit her square in the chest. It was quite solid, surprisingly, and she gave off a light, pained whimper as she hit the ground with a dull thud, nursing her bruises.  
  
"You're gonna hafta do better than that, kid," a gruff voice said from the door on the other side of the Danger Room. She looked over to see Mister Logan, staring at her disapprovingly, but moving in her direction to help her up, "if you're gonna have any hope to survive a real combat situation, you're gonna finish this course from beginning t'end without a flaw. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, Mister Logan," she said, running a hand over her full-body pink and black uniform, with an X shield on each shoulder. Over the past couple months of being at the mansion, Betsy had worked her way through the ranks of the New Mutants, and was just barely qualified enough to be considered an X-Man. Her powers had earned her the codename "Psylocke," and she used them to a fair extent, however, her combat skills needed a significant amount of work.  
  
"Let's boot up the program again, Chuck," Logan said, looking up to the control booth.  
  
"I think Psylocke has had enough for the day," the Professor's voice came through a speaker in the Danger Room. Logan scowled, looking at Betsy. He thought to himself that she would never make it in a real combat situation, and growling under his breath.  
  
"Go hit the showers, kid," he snarled, stalking out of the room.  
  
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Betsy stepped out of the shower in the locker room, feeling quite refreshed. She dried off thoroughly. and pulled on her civilian clothes, more than glad to have them back on again. She regarded herself in the mirror, her brown orbs scanning over her ensemble making sure everything was perfect, particularly her lovely purple curls. She sighed, frowning as Logan's voice echoed in her mind.  
  
//The kid just doesn't have what it takes, Charles//  
  
//Give her time, Logan. It took all of the students a considerable amount of times to survive your rigorous training courses.// Sometimes Betsy wished she didn't have these telepathic powers, then she wouldn't know what everyone thought about her. She bit her lower lip and made her way upstairs via the elevator, watching her feet shuffle along the floor as she did so. As the elevator hummed and vibrated its way to the sunny side of the earth's surface, Betsy leaned against the steel wall, wishing she could somehow prove herself to her team mates, especially Scott. She smiled, thinking about him. He was so cute, although a bit too serious for her tastes, but he was in love with Jean. She could tell evertime those two were in a room together. Psylocke felt the little green monster rumbling in her head whenever she saw the redhead and team field leader together, but she always fought to push the devil back in her mind. The elvator doors finally slid open with a soft "swish," interrupting her train of thought. She made her way up to the girl's dorms, where she was rooming with Amara and Jubilee. She opened the door to her room, hoping to find a bit of peace and quiet, but, of course, fate had other plans.  
  
"Hey Bets!" cried Amara, who was laying on her bed, her head dangling upside-down from the foot and her hair cascading on the floor in disarray, "how did training go with Mister Logan today?"  
  
Betsy made a soft grunt in reply, stealing the remote out of Jubilee's hands and flicking the channel, giving the firecracker a dirty look for her programming choice, namely Total Request Live. She swore, if she had to suffer her way through the "Overprotected" video one more time, she would fling herself out the second-story bedroom window.  
  
"Hey! I was watching that!" Jubilee pouted indignantly, "they were just about to show the number one video of the day."  
  
"It's either Britney Spears, *NSYNC, or the Backstreet Boys, whoever didn't have their video in the third or second place," Betsy replied, flipping through the hundreds of channels too fast to even tell what was on, not that there was anything anyhow. Jubilee just huffed in reply, crossing her yellow-clad arms angrily and sticking her lower lip out.  
  
"Would you pick something already?!"  
  
"I'll pick when I'm good and ready," Psylocke said flatly, smiling to herself, enjoying the torture she was putting Jubilee through.  
  
"Things are about to get ugly in here," Amara said, executing a roll into a sitting position on the floor, "I'm going to go find Bobby to see if he wants to play PlayStation with me or something." Her exit went unnoticed by either Jubilation or Elizabeth, who still had not chosen anything to watch, despite the fact she had gone around all the channels twice at lightning speed.  
  
Betsy sighed, tossing the remote into Jubilee's lap, "Oh, well, nothing's on, I guess I'll just go downstairs and see if anyone needs me there." As Psylocke left the room, Jubilee frantically pressed the buttons to turn on MTV.  
  
"Well, that's it for today, folks," the host said over the screams of insane teenagers, Jubilee squinted, swearing revenge under her breath. A shower of multicolored sparks came out of the remote as her anger grew, and she swore again, leaning over to rummage around in the drawers for her spare universal remote control.  
  
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Betsy walked down the stairs, smiling to herself, thinking that she'd need to apologize to Jubilee a bit later, but, for now, the act of immaturity actually had made her feel a bit better. Kitty came bounding down the stairs next to her.  
  
"Hey, Bets," she beamed, "Jean and I are going to the mall. You, like, wanna come?"  
  
"No, thanks," Betsy replied, an inaudible sigh following, "I'm not really in the mood to go shoe shopping today."  
  
"Oh, like, okay, not a problem." She blinked, the concept of not wanting to go shoe shopping was something completely foreign to her, "well, I guess I'll catch you later!" She skipped her way down the rest of the stairs beside Betsy, who headed towards the kitchen. Inside, she heard the voice of Logan and Professor Xavier.  
  
"It's somethin' I need t'take care of myself, Chuck. Sabretooth is too much for the kids to handle."  
  
Betsy recognized the name Sabretooth. Some guy that Logan had a past with, although no one ever really liked talking about it, so she really knew very little besides that. Logan had his memory problems, but it seemed that he quite clearly remembered most of his history with this "Sabretooth" character.  
  
"Very well, Logan," she heard Xavier reply, "then I suppose all I can do is wish you good luck." She heard Logan close the door that led to the garage and a few moments later, the roar of his motorcycle starting up, then speeding away. She nodded to Professor Xavier as he wheeled past her and entered the kitchen, watching as Wolverine left the school grounds. Maybe this could be her opportunity to prove herself, maybe if she followed Logan and helped him beat this Sabretooth guy, then just maybe she could prove herself to her team mates. She nodded, having made up her mind, and sneaked into the garage, taking the keys to the X-Van and hopping inside, speeding off to follow Logan into town.  
  
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To Be Continued...  
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Part 3 is in the works, and should be uploaded sometime in the next couple of days... please review and let me know what you think! :) 


	3. Part 3 - Enter Sabretooth

Lots of thanks go to Draxia for helping me iron out the details of this chapter. :) Thank you so much!!!  
  
This chapter is a significant bit more violent than the last two... don't say you weren't warned!  
  
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PART 3  
"Enter Sabretooth"  
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Betsy sped after Logan as fast as she dared, making sure to stay a good bit behind him so that he didn't notice that she was following. The drive took them to a construction site just a few miles from Bayville High. She saw Logan hop off his bike and throw his helmet to the ground, pausing to sniff the air. Betsy brought the van to a stop behind a wooden fence where Wolverine wouldn't notice it and stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her. She watched the diminutive mutant's every move, creeping slowly closer, finally ducking behind a "Piper Construction" sign.  
  
"Creed! Where in blazes are ya?!" He said in his gravelly voice, as he was about to call out again, he paused, sniffing the air, "Bets... what the..." he growled, his eyes darting to the sign Betsy hid behind. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there. "Get outta here--!" his warning was interrupted by the sound of metal swishing through the air. A large steel girder connected soundly with Wolverine's side. He went flying through the air and landed hard, kicking up a cloud of dust as his momentum dragged him at least another three feet along the ground. Betsy saw a giant of a man throw down the steel girder and snarl. The wind blew his long, blond hair and tossed his shredded trenchcoat about. He bared sharp incisors and headed towards Logan.  
  
"Long time no see, runt," he growled, grabbing Wolverine by his neck and hauling him off the ground, "this time, you ain't got any little friends to help you. You're as good as dead," Wolverine struggled in the giant's grip, finally unsheathing his claws and stabbing blindly into Sabretooth's side. Creed roared in pain and dropped Wolverine, who crashed to the ground in a heap, his right claws stained in red. "That... hurt..." Sabretooth said, kicking Logan in the face, knocking him over onto his back. He let out a fierce roar and leapt onto the orange-clad X-Man, shredding at his uniform. Splatters of blood flew as far as the sign Betsy hid behind. Sounds like those of two animals tearing each other apart echoed through the lot. Psylocke panicked, not sure what to do. She leapt to her feet and ran towards the cloud of dust that was apparently the battle between the two rivals. When she got within a few feet, a splattering of blood hit her across the face, blinding her momentarily. Her face twisted into a snarl, much like the one she'd seen Logan make a few moments earlier, and her right hand closed tight into a fist. A soft fizzling sound could be heard as she drew her fist tighter, and a soft purple glow formed, and gradually evolved into a blade of what Betsy recognized as pure psychic energy.  
  
It felt surprisingly natural, although it had never happened to Betsy before, and she leapt on Sabretooth's back, wrapping an arm around his throat and driving the psychic knife into his skull. The giant went limp under her and collapsed to the ground, and she went tumbling with him. She felt Logan's eyes on her as she got off of Creed, who was now rubbing at his head. Her mentor's clothes were torn to shreds, his mask completely gone, revealing a set of bloody wounds which healed before her eyes. He gave her a nod of approval as he came to his feet.  
  
"What.... was that....?" Creed got to his feet again, slowly, holding his head, and looked to Betsy, "another runt tryin' to act all tough... just what I needed," he snarled, bringing a clawed hand down to swipe at her face. Psylocke let out a cry as he face was brutally torn into by Sabretooth's claws, the force of his blow knocking her to the ground. Blood dripped from her face onto the ground, in amounts sufficient to turn the dirt into red mud. Strands of flesh dangling from her cheekbones. She looked up in fear as Sabretooth slowly moved towards her, a feral grin on his face, "I'm gonna enjoy this..."  
  
"Hey, Creed? Why don't ya pick on someone who can fight back?" Logan launched himself at Sabretooth with a savage yell, his claws point directly at the larger mutant. The mutant didn't have time to react, Wolverine's claws slid through Creed's skull like a hot knife through butter. Blood flowed freely from the wounds, Sabretooth's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground. Logan retracted his claws, making a sickening sound as the metal slipped back again through Creed's skull and brain. Any other man would be dead from the blow, but Logan could see that Sabretooth was still breathing, but there was no way he was going to get up again for some time. He walked over to Betsy, who was holding the destroyed portion of her cheek together with a hand, dark blood pouring through her fingers. It was apparent she was in a state of complete shock. He knelt next to her, frowning, he realized that she had saved his life, and probably deserved thanks, but Logan never liked admitting that he could have been defeated by anyone.  
  
"You okay, kid? That was some pretty fancy stuff you pulled there," he said. Betsy nodded in response to his question, and half-smiled through her pain at the compliment. "You're gonna make a fine X-Man yet," he continued, and left it at that. He lifted Sabretooth off the ground and carried him to the X-Van, making sure that Creed was secure and had no way to escape, though Logan doubted there was any chance Sabretooth was going to do anyone any harm for quite some time. He hid his bike under some nearby trees, intending to come back in a few hours to get them and helped Betsy into the van.  
  
No words were exchanged on their way home, but once they returned, Wolverine gave Psylocke a small speech and warned her never to do anything that stupid again. She knew that, in his own way, he was thanking her for coming to his rescue. Sabretooth was placed in a special medical bay, where his vitals would be monitored as he slowly healed from the brain damage Logan had caused. Betsy overheard Beast talking to Professor X, telling him that a portion of Sabretooth's brain had been severed, sort of an unintentional lobotomy. Hank had no idea what kind of effects it might have, but there was the chance that psychic attacks might no longer be useful against him.  
  
That night, Betsy had trouble sleeping. She stared out the window, watching the full moon outside. Her face was neatly stitched and bandaged, and Doctor McCoy had told her that she should be back to normal in no time. Her roommates had listened to her tell the story several times since she had returned, Amara always begging for more details, then grew squeamish at the gory details and wished she'd not asked to hear the story again. Jubilee simply refused to believe that Wolverine actually needed any help in the battle, but seemed proud of Psylocke for facing off against Sabretooth. Betsy glowed under their praise, maybe there was room for her as one of the X-Men, after all.  
  
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To Be Continued!  
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Please review! Let me know what you think! :) 


	4. Part 4 - Enter Kwannon

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PART 4  
"Enter Kwannon"  
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The Brotherhood "pad" was in its usual state of disarray, much to Mystique's dismay. Toad was hopping from wall-to-wall, playing keepaway with a sandwich Blob had just made for himself, a path of destruction of in the wake of the enormously overweight mutant.  
  
"Grrr.... I'm gonna crush you!" Blob threatened, launching himself at Toad, but as the agile youngster launched himself across the room with a powerful leap, Fred ended up landing face-first into a tattered, green couch, which promptly snapped in half under his weight.  
  
"Gotta catch me first!" Todd stuck his dark green tongue out at Fred, stretching it out a good three feet, and giving a rather disgusting raspberry. Mystique wiped the green slime-spray from her face.  
  
"Boys!" Mystique shouted, tossing her red-orange hair over her shoulder, squinting her catlike yellow eyes at the pair. The two didn't acknowledge her presence there. As Toad leaped past her, the shape-shifter grabbed the sandwich out of the pale green mutant's hand and threw it on the floor, "I am tired of this behavior! And you wonder why you never defeated the X-Men until I brought Wanda here." Blob looked at the remains of his perfect Dagwood sandwich as they laid splattered on the floor. He almost cried as the toothpick-speared green olive rolled to a stop at his feet. "Where are Lance, Pietro, and Wanda?"  
  
"Lance is out... somewhere..." Toad's eyes darted here and there, then he smiled, attempting to look innocent. It was pathetic. The truth was, Lance was out with Kitty, and Mystique obviously would not have been happy about that, so Todd had volunteered to cover for him. Well, the truth was Lance had threatened to hang him up by his tongue if he didn't cover for him, but he was the only one who had to know that, "Pietro went out to get some grub, and Wanda's somewhere with that spooky lady that's been trainin' her to control her powers."  
  
Mystique eyed the pair standing before her, her blue lips curled into a deep frown, "I need you two to get this house looking presentable," she said, "we are going to have company tonight."  
  
"Company?" Blob tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, "who?"  
  
"That really isn't any of your business, just do as your told," Mystique jabbed a finger into Blob's chest, and it sunk in about up to the last knuckle. She scowled in distaste as she withdrew the finger, "I'll be upstairs getting ready," she said, "Miss Kwannon only works for the most distinguished customers."  
  
Blob and Toad looked at each other, wondering to themselves just who this Miss Kwannon was, but they merely shrugged and went to work.  
  
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It had been a few weeks since Sabretooth's attack, Betsy's wounds had healed and she was feeling her old self again, although a bit better. She was looked upon more favorably by Mister Logan, although he tried his best not to show it. She had no illusions that she had become any better of a fighter, she thought to herself as she wandered into the kitchen, walking to the table where Kurt and Scott were watching some Van Damme movie on TV. It wasn't exactly the kind of movie Professor Xavier encouraged his students to watch, but Kurt and Scott seemed thoroughly sucked into it.  
  
"Where is everyone?" Betsy asked, opening the refrigerator door and poking her head inside.  
  
"Jean and Evan went off to see their folks for a few weeks, I'm really not sure where Kitty went off to, said she went shoe shopping," Scott said as a car went up in a ball of flame on the screen, "Rogue went to the library, said something about a new Anne Rice book."  
  
Betsy grabbed an apple from the fridge, looking outside and smiling at the perfectly beautiful day. Summer was usually a pleasant time in Bayville, the days were fairly hot, but the humidity wasn't deadly. She eyed the pool in the backyard and grinned, "I'm going to go for a swim," she said, biting into her apple, "you two want to come?"  
  
Kurt and Scott thought for a moment... Betsy in a bathing suit or Van Damme? It was a hard decision, and they both looked at each other for a moment, knowing that the same thing was running through the other's mind.  
  
"I'll be right down," she said, heading for the stairs to get changed into her suit.  
  
"Vhat do you think, man?" Kurt asked, his tail swishing in the air.  
  
"Just as long as you don't get blue fur caught in the filter," Scott leapt out of his seat and darted upstairs to change into his trunks. Kurt ported to his room and got changed as quickly as he possibly could. Ah, summer was a wonderful thing, the furry blue boy thought to himself.  
  
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The doorbell rang at six sharp at the Brotherhood house. Mystique, in her usual black leather ensemble, answered the door. Blob, Quicksilver, and Toad watched from the top of the stairs. The shadowy figure of a woman was outside, and as she moved in, the three could make out distinctly Asian features, she was Japanese, they deduced, and by the looks of her, particularly the katana strapped to her back, she was a dangerous woman.  
  
"Hey, what's going on?" Lance asked, coming up behind the other three. In perfect synch, they put their fingers to their lips, it was really quite a comical scene.  
  
"Glad to see you finally got back from your date with Miss Kitty," Pietro shot out quickly, although a bit quieter than usual.  
  
"Mystique has company, yo," Toad said, "and she doesn't look like the friendly sort, neither."  
  
Lance crouched beside the other three, looking down the stairs, watching Mystique lead Kwannon to the dining room. They felt a pair of eyes drilling into their backs. They turned around to see Wanda standing over them.  
  
"I'm not even going to ask what you idiots are doing," she said, continuing on her way to her room.  
  
The four remaining Brotherhood members turned their attention back to matters at hand, "Okay," Lance said, "one of us needs to sneak down there and take a listen, find out what they're talking about."  
  
"I'll go," Blob volunteered happily.  
  
"Oh, yeah, like they won't hear you coming down the stairs," Pietro said quickly, "I think Todd should go. He could cling to the walls, would probably make the least amount of noise."  
  
"You kiddin', man?" Toad said, "did you see that sword on her back? I ain't goin' down there!" A heavy hand came to rest on Todd's shoulder. He looked up to see Blob.  
  
"I'm sorry about this, buddy," he said, picking the green-skinned mutant up and hurling him downstairs. Todd stuck to the far wall, shooting a very nasty look up at Blob, who just shrugged. He quietly crept along the hideously wallpapered wall, trying to hear what was being discussed.  
  
"I am to be paid tonight for this job," he heard Kwannon said.  
  
"Yes, of course, in American dollars. $10,000,000." Todd wondered how Mystique had the money to pay this woman that much money when she let the rest of them live in this disgusting house.  
  
"My boss will be happy to hear that. It seems like a simple enough job," Kwannon said, a smile curling on her lips, "getting past their defense systems may prove difficult, but I relish the challenge. Is there any... odd fate you wish the victim to suffer?"  
  
"No, I just want him out of the way," Mystique said. Todd quietly wondered who Mystique was having killed, who would have a defense system at their house, except... Toad's eyes flew wide open and he leapt back up the stairs in a single bound.  
  
"Well, what did you find out?" Lance demanded.  
  
"Mystique is sending Kwannon in to take out," he swallowed hard, still wrapping his mind around what he was saying, "Professor X."  
  
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To Be Continued  
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	5. Part 5 - Target: Charles Xavier

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PART 5  
"Target: Charles Xavier"  
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Betsy collapsed on the couch, letting out a long sigh. Her hair was still wet from swimming and clung to her face, the curls pulled straight by the weight of the water. Scott and Kurt had volunteered to go out and rent a movie, leaving her the only student at the mansion at the moment. Last time Betsy had checked, Professor Xavier was in his study reading, other than that she was completely alone. Xavier apparently believed that he could get Creed to act more like a normal human being, rather than the savage beast he had become. Logan hadn't bought it, and had stormed off at the mere suggestion, riding off on his bike into parts unknown. He hadn't returned in weeks. Betsy sprawled herself out on the couch, looking out the window to see the stars strewn about in the black sky.  
  
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Kwannon was crouching in a tree branch just outside the gate of the Xavier Institute. She had changed into her battle uniform, which consisted of thigh-high, dark blue leather boots, each with a dark band of leather which wrapped up around her thigh and connected with the main body of the suit, which was also made of dark blue leather and skin tight, providing great ease of movement. The main body was cut similar to a one-piece bathing suit, Kwannon liked to let her skin breathe. She also wore dark blue fingerless gloves, and strapped to her back were twin katanas. She looked the part of a beautiful ninja warrior, and was more than well-trained in the deadly arts of ninjitsu. What gave her even more of an advantage was her special "talents." Kwannon was a mutant, with the ability to blend in with shadows, teleport between said shadows, and psychic powers, with which she could form a telekinetic katana, which quite effectively destroyed the mind of her target. This was her weapon of choice, the katanas strapped to her back were really more for tradition's sake, although she occasionally used them if the occasion called for a less clean kill.  
  
The assassin let out a soft exhale as she watched two young men drive away from the institute in a red convertible. It was time. She closed her eyes, transforming into what essentially was a living shadow. A blackness slowly crept over her, first covering her boots, then up the pale skin of her legs, over her torso, down her arms, and finally, her face vanished into darkness. Only then did she open her eyes, which had changed from dark brown to a softly glowing violet. She leapt off the tree branch, hitting the ground on the other side of the gate noiselessly. Kwannon shielded her mind, remembering that her target was also a telepath, so now she was unnoticeable to both eye and mind, the perfect assassin. She crept along the shadows until she found an open window, and let herself inside. Once inside the well-lit kitchen, she phased out of her shadow form, and relied purely on her stealth to get through the mansion undetected.  
  
================================  
  
Betsy grumbled, hitting the "power" button on the remote control and watched the images on the screen vanish back into the nothingness from whence they came.  
  
"Nothing on, as usual," she sighed, pulling herself to her feet and making her way down the halls to the library. If there was nothing good to watch, maybe she could find something short and sweet to read until Scott and Kurt got back with a movie. She made her way up the stairs and down the hall to the library, passing by Professor X's study on the way. As she stopped at the library door and reached for the knob, she thought she saw some movement out of the corner of her eye. She felt an unfamiliar presence nearby, but she couldn't get a lock on it with her powers. Betsy followed her instincts and moved down the hall where she had seen the movement, just in time to see the Professor's door slide shut again. She paused for a moment, knowing that Xavier valued his privacy, and turned to go back to the library.  
  
//X-Men! I need help! Quickly!// Xavier's voice rang in Betsy's head. He was panicked, which was rare for the Professor. She ran back down the hall, cursing herself for not following her instincts to begin with.  
  
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Kwannon drew her katana, smiling grimly at the figure in the wheelchair, his eyes were filled with fear. She knew he was more than shocked that his telepathic powers didn't detect her, and probably more surprised that his telepathic "bolt" didn't knock her unconscious.  
  
"Professor Charles Xavier, I hope you die well---" Kwannon was interrupted by the door swinging open, the figure of a young girl darting inside with a cry and leaping on the assassin's back. She reprimanded herself quietly for letting this girl get the jump on her as she collapsed to the ground with the force of the impact, her katana clattering across the floor. Kwannon looked up at the girl, who now had a fist raised in the air, a blade of what she recognized as pure psychic energy raised in the air. She quickly brought her own psi-katana up to block the strike. Kwannon brought her legs up to kick the girl squarely in the chest, easily knocking the wind out of her. Xavier wheeled out quickly from behind his desk, mentally calling out for more help.  
  
Betsy could hear the Professor's cries in her mind, they caused her head to throb due to their intensity and her proximity to the Professor. She tried to block them out and concentrate on the fight, but the blow she had just received had impaired her ability to continue in the battle. She saw the assassin coming at her, her psi-katana crackling with glowing, purple psychic energy as it swung towards her head. She managed to block with her own smaller blade, but the force of the older woman's blow knocked them both back over the Professor's desk, sending papers and books scattering over the ground. They continued to roll, crashing through the enormous window behind Xavier's desk, glass slicing into their flesh. Their momentum carried them further, tumbling out of the second-story window and onto the ground. Betsy was stricken unconscious by the fall, but Kwannon expertly landed, muttering curses in Japanese at the girl. The assassination was a failure, but some good might come of it after all. She regarded the unconscious girl, pondering the powers she had used against the expert assassin, very much like the assassin's own powers. Matsu'o might be able to put her to good use, after a bit of persuasion. Kwannon heard a car pulling into the front driveway of the mansion, and made a quick decision to bring the girl's unconscious body with her back to her master, Matsu'o. She wrapped her arms around the young one's torso and hefted her onto her badly cut shoulder, retreating swiftly into the woods.  
  
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To Be Continued  
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	6. Part 6 - A Pawn of The Hand

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PART 6  
"A Pawn of The Hand"  
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Betsy's eyes fluttered open, greeted by pure darkness. Her instant reaction was panic, she tried to figure out where she was. Her arms were above her head, secured by heavy chains, and her feet were shackled to the floor. Through the gaping hole in the back of her shirt, she could feel cold stone as she leaned back against the wall. Slowly, she began to remember the struggle with the assassin, tumbling through a window... she could now feel the cuts where pieces of glass had sliced through her tan skin. Her body ached from the fall, and her breathing became something of a labor as she regained feeling throughout her body. She wondered to herself how long she had been unconscious, and if Professor Xavier was alive and well.  
  
A sliver of soft orange light cut through the darkness and slowly spread, blinding Betsy momentarily. In a matter of seconds, her eyes adjusted to the new light levels and she saw the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway.  
  
"Where am I," Betsy demanded, her voice sticking in her throat from lack of fluids.  
  
"You are here," the woman said, and though Betsy couldn't see her face, she could tell by her voice tone that the figure was smiling.  
  
"Where is that?"  
  
"Where it is," she replied simply, moving closer to Betsy.  
  
"Get back! I'm warning you!" Betsy closed her eyes and concentrated as the Professor had taught her, focusing her psychic energy into a mental bolt to try to incapacitate the woman. Her power began to manifest itself as a glowing surge of pink psychic energy which slowly took the shape of a butterfly, but it quickly fluttered out of existence. She drew in a few sharp breaths, she did not have the energy to combat the woman.  
  
"You are in no position to threaten me, girl... what is your name?" The woman was directly in front of her now, Betsy could smell her perfume, a delicate fragrance of mixed flowers. In the dim light, she could now see that the woman was Asian. She was young, perhaps twenty, and beautiful, with long, flowing black hair with purple streaks and pale skin.  
  
"B-Betsy Braddock," she said softly, recognizing the woman as the assassin who had tried to kill Professor Xavier, "please don't hurt me."  
  
"I am Kwannon," was the reply she received. The woman brought her hand up to Betsy's chin and held her face for a moment, looking her over, "do not tremble, I am not going to hurt you unless I am given good reason to. You are in Japan, in the home of Matsu'o Tsurayaba. You now work for the Hand."  
  
"What if I choose not to?" Betsy asked, a challenging look in her eyes.  
  
"Then, my dear child," Kwannon replied, releasing Betsy's face with a rough shove to the side, "I will be forced to kill you." She saw Betsy shudder violently and smiled, quite satisfied with herself.  
  
"That is enough, Kwannon," a man's voice said from the doorway. Betsy looked up again to see a Japanese man enter. He was older than Kwannon, probably in his thirties, and simply reeked of power. He was dressed in the best clothing money could afford and carried himself in a self-important manner, "if you scare the little butterfly too badly, she will not work well for us."  
  
Kwannon bowed quickly, "Yes, Lord Matsu'o, as you wish." She backed away from Betsy, a deadly look in her eye as she stared into Betsy's soft orbs, which were filling up with tears. Now Matsu'o approached Betsy, looking her over and smiling.  
  
"My dear little one, do not cower," he said, "you have nothing to fear if you cooperate, but I must warn you, if Kwannon feels that you are trying to cause trouble, she will deal with you in a most... unpleasant manner." A smile came to his lips, "Believe me, there are things worse than death." In the dim light, tears sparkled on the soft skin of Betsy's cheeks. Matsu'o and Kwannon turned and left her in her dark room, promising to return in the morning.  
  
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Betsy's first few days with the Hand proved difficult. Matsu'o often instructed her to use her powers in unethical ways, to help him track down targets that Kwannon was to assassinate. Kwannon began to grow angry with Matsu'o, feeling that she didn't need the assistance of young Miss Braddock to strike their targets. She mistreated Betsy every chance she got, verbally abusing her, always reminding her how useless she felt Psylocke was.  
  
Psylocke had been with the Hand for almost a month now, and she had begun to give up hope that the X-Men would ever find her. She cried the nights away, wishing to be with her friends, to be in a comfortable environment, instead of lonely and chained up to a wall. As she went through her usual sobbing one evening, the door to her cell slid open. Betsy saw Kwannon enter, her left arm weighed down by a sack she carried.  
  
"You are coming with me, Little Butterfly," Kwannon said, roughly grabbing Betsy's wrists and unlocking the shackles which restrained her. Psylocke let her arms drop to her sides, rubbing at her wrists, attempting to regain feeling in them.  
  
"Where are we going?" She asked.  
  
"Matsu'o wants me to take you on a job, to begin to train you in the ways of the ninja." Her voice was full of spite. Kwannon felt as is Matsu'o intended to eventually replace her with this child, and it greatly disturbed her sense of honor and importance. "You will wear this," she dropped the sack she had been carrying on her back, kicking it open to reveal a purple jumpsuit, with thin, vertical red stripes along the midsection. Kwannon turned her back and exited the room, closing the door to give Betsy privacy as she changed. She smiled to herself, realizing this would be her opportunity to rid herself of the child once and for all. It would be simple to convince Matsu'o that Betsy had attempted to escape on the mission, and that force had been needed to stop her. A self-satisfied grin crept over Kwannon's ruby-painted lips. Perhaps the night would not be a complete waste after all.  
  
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To Be Continued  
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	7. Part 7 - The Hawk and The Butterfly

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PART 7  
"The Hawk and The Butterfly"  
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It was late in the evening when Betsy and Kwannon stepped out of Matsu'o's mansion onto the busy streets of Tokyo. Betsy remained close to Kwannon, not that she trusted her, but she figured that Matsu'o would probably be quite unhappy if his new prize was killed on her first real "mission." Psylocke couldn't help but frown at the word as she made her way down the road, watching the cars hurry by. The word mission had once meant a lot to her, when she was with the X-Men. It meant saving someone's life, not taking one. Now she was just going on a mission to keep herself from being killed. As her thoughts took this turn, a feeling of self-hate began to well up inside of Betsy's stomach. She almost wanted to step out into the street and take her own life now, or maybe try to get awake from Kwannon, and get back to the X-Mansion. But the mansion was half a world a way now, there was practically no way she could get there, and that was even if she survived trying to escape the assassin at her side.  
  
"You look troubled," Kwannon observed, a smirk appearing on her face. She wore a dark trenchcoat, covering her combat uniform.  
  
"Just thinking," Betsy replied, sighing softly, visibly shaken at being caught. Her skin turned a whiter shade of the pale it had become since being locked in that dark room for nearly a month without end. Every so often she had been allowed out to dine, but only very rarely.  
  
"Do not let your expression betray you, Little Butterfly," she said, "you look guilty already, yet in the meantime, we are merely dealing out justice."  
  
Justice, Betsy thought to herself, justice had nothing to do with killing people who someone else had a grudge against. She seriously doubted that The Hand worked as enforcers of the "eye for an eye" rule, and even if they did, they did so for the highest bidder. Psylocke once again eyed her companion, noting that Kwannon was, of course, carrying her twin katanas, which she had seen her wield with great expertise on more than one occasion. There would be no escape for Betsy, no escape except death.  
  
"This way," Kwannon said, turning down a dark alleyway. Rats scurried out of their path, and Betsy decided to stop counting the cockroaches that ran about the dumpsters. The area reeked of foul, aging garbage, forcing Betsy to breathe through her mouth, although at points it was quite useless, because the stench was so thick she could actually taste it. The alley finally came to a stop in a small court completely surrounded by brick walls. There was a street light overhead, flickering on and off, providing good light one moment, and plunging Betsy and Kwannon into darkness the next.  
  
"Are you sure this is the way we were supposed to have come?" Betsy asked, biting her lip, knowing the answer more than well enough as she watched Kwannon take off her trenchcoat.  
  
"No, it is not," Kwannon replied, "but I suspect you are intelligent enough to have figured this out on your own already. It is here that you are going to die." She drew one of her blades, her face as cold as stone, the wind whipping her purple-streaked hair around her, "I can make this quite easy for you, if you cooperate." Betsy looked frantically around for a way out that she might have missed, a fire escape or something. But there was nothing but the graffiti-covered brick walls and the entrance, which was now blocked by Kwannon. As the assassin approached Psylocke, Betsy found herself actually wondering if it was best that she just let it end here. Kwannon raised her blade, ready to make a clean swipe at the girl's head, but as her arms finally went into motion, Betsy ducked, sweeping her leg around and connecting with Kwannon's knees. The assassin hadn't been expecting any resistance, and was unprepared, her knees gave and she fell to the ground, her sword still clenched tightly in her hand. Betsy leapt on top of Kwannon, clenching her right hand into a tight fist and concentrating, sweat pouring down her face as her psychic blade flashed into being. She made a quick movement for Kwannon's head and connected.  
  
The assassin let out a cry of pain, but immediately unleashed a psychic backlash, which washed over Betsy and caused her to tumble backwards off of Kwannon's back.  
  
"Young fool," she murmured, tossing her steel blade aside, "if that is the way you wish it to be, then so be it!" Her psi-katana formed out of her right hand, the energy of it lighting the alleyway as the street light above finally gave out. Betsy scrambled to her feet, all of her training coming back to her now, she took a deep breath, trying desperately to somehow even the playing ground. Her blade grew in length, only a small bit, but it was enough to give her a fighting chance as the assassin once again swung at her. The entire alleyway lit up as the blades connected, psychic energy washing over the pair of combatants.  
  
"There is no way you can win, child," Kwannon hissed, pulling her psi-katana back and swinging it again, only to have it intercepted by Psylocke's blade. This time the force actually caused pain in the minds of the psychic women. The strain was becoming almost too much for either of them to bear.  
  
"I can try, though," Betsy managed to say, ducking and rolling behind Kwannon and driving her blade into the back of the assassin's head. She let out a cry of pain and once again lashed out at Betsy, taking a grasp of the girl's mind and dragging it onto the Astral Plane. Betsy suddenly found herself on somewhat unfamiliar territory, she felt like she was floating in space... in fact, it felt more like she was completely free of restrictions, as though her body was gone. Around her was a void, massive and vast, and standing across from her was Kwannon, dressed in the garb of a ninja warrior. Psylocke found herself in the same clothes she had been in a few moments ago, and grasping a dagger in her hand. Kwannon launched herself at Psylocke, swinging her katana expertly at Betsy's head. She was, once again, met by the X-Man's own blade. Betsy swiftly dropped to the ground, delivering a kick to Kwannon's midsection. The assassin stumbled backwards, off-balance. Betsy quickly drove upwards with her blade into Kwannon's midsection. No blood came from the wound, but the cry that Kwannon made Betsy know that she had scored a hit. A moment later, Betsy found herself nursing her own wound as the assassin's katana came down on her left shoulder. The two continued battling this way, no blood being shed whatsoever, merely shocks of violet psychic energy with each hit the combatants scored. The battle lasted mere moments, lasted an eternity, neither opponent knew which, all that they knew is that in the end, they both won, they both lost. They both faded into blackness.  
  
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Betsy sat up, holding her throbbing head. The battle had been intense, with no clear winner. She looked around, seeing that it was just past dawn and pale beams of light shone down into the alleyway. She took a deep breath and instantly regretted it as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. Oddly enough, as she surveyed her body, there was not a scratch on it, merely the dark blue leather costume she had been wearing the previous night. She paused for a moment, surveying her clothes again. It was Kwannon's form-fitting battle costume. Betsy panicked, jumping to her feet, looking around for her opponent. She finally laid eyes on the unconscious form a few feet away from her. Kwannon was wearing the purple and red jumpsuit Psylocke had been wearing the night before, and her face...  
  
"Oh my..." Betsy's eyes flew wide open. She ran out of the alleyway into the street, rushing to the nearest store and looking at her reflection in the window. She saw a familiar face looking back, not the mirror image she was used to, however, instead she saw the face of a beautiful Asian woman, the face of someone she knew as an assassin. It was the face of her enemy. Betsy realized that after their battle on the Astral Plane, hers and Kwannon's minds must have someone switched places. Psylocke could recall memories that were not her own, as well as those that belonged to her. She remembered many different assassination techniques, the faces of victims. She went running down the street, tears streaking down her face. How could this have happened to her? How could she have become her own worst enemy?  
  
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To Be Continued  
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	8. Part 8 - Aftermath

Yeah, I know it's been forever since I posted a chapter! Man, Day of Reckoning was GREAT, wasn't it?! (Okay, so I'm happy they finally got Gambit in there, even if he was an Acolyte) All right, well, Part 8 comes shortly after Day of Reckoning. Everything that comes after what I've written here is pure speculation, but, hey, isn't that what fanfics are for? ;)  
  
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PART 8  
"Aftermath"  
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Betsy Braddock halted at the door to the manor that she had been staying at for the past several months, an idea formulating in her mind. She walked up to the door and knocked. The door opened and she was greeted by a young servant girl who bowed slightly and gestured for Betsy to enter. She nodded her thanks and walked down the large, open halls decorated with many expensive-looking Japanese artifacts. Matsu'o apparently had a fascination with the katana, as many of them of various sizes were arranged on the walls. Betsy paused at the door to the cell she had been locked in for what seemed like forever and smiled, glad that she had finally been able to escape. She continued down the hall and stopped at a large red door at the end. The two guards standing at the door stepped aside as she moved towards them, averting their eyes from her face. From the memories she had received from Kwannon, she recognized it as Matsu'o's office. She brought a hand up and knocked softly.  
  
"Enter," was the response she heard, although it took her a moment to access Kwannon's memories to translate from Japanese. She opened the door and stepped inside, trying to feign Kwannon's confidence.  
  
"Lord Matsu'o," she said, bowing deeply, taking in the sights of the room. More katanas lined the wall and two suits of samurai armor were positioned in the doorway that she had entered through. Behind Matsu'o's wooden desk was a large window, providing a rather breathtaking view of the city. "Miss Braddock was killed during the assassination attempt, I barely escaped with my life." She spoke in her most apologetic tone, trying not to sound shaken.  
  
Matsu'o stood from his desk, moving slowly over towards the person who appeared to be his best assassin. He gently touched a hand to her cheek, frowning, "Are you hurt, my dear?"  
  
"Not badly," she replied, "I seek to redeem myself. Let me return to America and retry the assassination of Charles Xavier."  
  
Matsu'o removed his hand from her cheek, stepping back to study Betsy's dark orbs. She tried to keep her eyes fixed on his, but succeeded in doing everything but. "You wish to attempt again what you failed so miserably at the first time?" His words were cold, almost angry. Betsy found herself trembling at his icy tone. "Very well, you will leave this evening." He drew closer to her again, placing his arms around her waist. "But first," he said, his voice lowering into a softer tone now, as if he was trying to comfort her, "I want to make sure you are all right."  
  
"I am fine, Lord," she said, fighting her instincts to wrestle away from him. She tried to express that she was not in the mood for this, but he quickly kissed her anyway, then moved back behind his desk. As soon as his back was turned, Betsy let out a repressed shudder of disgust.  
  
"You may go, I wish you good fortune on your mission." He nodded, gesturing for the door. Betsy bowed and made for the exit, glad that this was finally all over.  
  
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Betsy sighed, walking through the airport, hugging herself. She was glad to be home again, she thought, although trying to convince the others that she was Betsy and not some psycho assassin would not be easy. She smiled, thinking to herself how nice it would be to see Scott again. She glanced in the window of a shop in the airport, making sure her hair was straight. She'd dyed it purple before she'd left Matsu'o's house, she loved the way it looked. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something familiar in the newspaper. Betsy gave it a better look and tried to repress a look of sheer horror.  
  
The Daily Bugle's headline was, "The Mutant Menace," and on the front she saw her team mates battling a gigantic robot. She scanned it, frowning, then saw yet another article. The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters had exploded, no bodies had been found, it seemed to have occurred around the same time as the battle with the Sentinel. Psylocke could only hope and pray that her friends were all okay. She did her best to control herself and not cry, but there was definitely a look of extreme worry on her face as she walked outside.  
  
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Her walk turned into a run when she had come about half a mile from the airport. It wasn't that much further to the X-Mansion, or its remains. She finally allowed herself to cry as she stopped at the front gates, or rather, what was left of them. A huge crater filled with various debris sat where the mansion had been. A team of firemen and policemen were going through the wreckage, looking for survivors... or bodies. Betsy slowly made her way towards the site before being stopped by a large fireman. He was in his thirties, with dark black hair and an enormously muscular build. Betsy looked up into his dark, brown eyes with her own tear-filled orbs.  
  
"I'm sorry, miss, you're going to have to turn back. It's not safe to come any closer." He said.  
  
"But... but my friends," she sobbed, "they... they were in there."  
  
"We haven't found anyone yet," he said, trying to comfort her as much as he could, "they probably got out before it happened, though we haven't heard from anyone who lived here."  
  
Betsy nodded and walked off, tears streaming down her face. She wandered into the nearby woods and climbed up a tree, watching the firemen working from a distance. Until she figured out a way to find her supposedly surviving friends, Psylocke was alone in the world.  
  
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To Be Continued  
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	9. Part 9 - Angels Unaware

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written in here. But finally, here is Part 9, and  
more parts will soon be on the way. Real life is slowing down again and I have more time to focus on writing.  
  
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PART 9  
"Angels Unaware"  
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A week had passed, Psylocke had booked herself a room in a local Days Inn using the money given to her by Matsu'o, who Betsy could only hope still believed that she was Kwannon. Eventually, though, the woman whose body she was now inhabiting would get through to the crime lord and expose her. She sprawled herself out over the bed, eyeing the remote control, trying to build up enough energy to move her arm and lift it. She clicked the television on, half listening to it, most of her lost in a world of memories. She wished she could see Scott or any other of her teammates again, but she doubted that would ever happen. They were probably buried somewhere deep in the mansion's hidden basement areas, where the firemen might never find their broken bodies.  
  
"...the mutant menace must be stopped! We have seen what they did to New York City, what is going to stop them from taking their efforts to other major cities," Betsy's ponderings were interrupted by a man shouting on the news. His grey eyes were wild with a passionate fury, "We must put money into the Sentinel project to keep our children safe. If we do not, there is no telling who may be the next victims of a mindless mutant attack." The image flashed to the pleasant face of a blonde-headed anchor at the news station.  
  
"That was Graydon Creed, leader of the anti-mutant group the Friends of Humanity," the news woman went on, but Betsy no longer heard her. She hopped to her feet and stared out her second-story window at the crowded street below. She sighed softly, her violet locks framing her face, a random stray hair hanging over her left eye. Turning away from the street, Betsy looked at the katanas leaning against the wall and moved to pick one up. She adjusted her grip until the handle fit her hand perfectly and stood in front of the mirror, taking up various stances that were engrained in her mind, thanks to the psychic meld. The face in the mirror which had first seemed so strange to Betsy she had now grown comfortable with, and even began to like. She no longer saw her worst enemy, but a victory over a great foe. She swung the blade in a downward stroke, letting out a soft yelp as she accidentally hit the side of her own leg.  
  
"That's something we're going to have to work on," she muttered to herself, wiping the blood off her wound. Betsy hadn't completely mastered the moves that presented themselves as being simple in her mind, but it was just another thing she would have to get used to. For now, though, she would just have to use the skills she already had if she ever found herself in a dangerous situation. She placed the katana beside the other one leaning against the wall and stepped out the door into the corridor. She made her way down the hall, smiling and nodding politely to the maid. So far, the cleaning service hadn't made any fuss about her two blades, she figured that they thought she was a collector or something, which suited her fine. Betsy stepped out onto the street, taking a deep breath of fresh air. She noticed that men who passed by her looked at her the same way she'd seen boys at school look at Jean, and it felt good. She allowed herself a happy smile, trying to forget about everything that had happened over the past few months, but every now and then hateful graffiti reminded her just who she was, a mutant, an outcast.  
  
"Take that, ya mutie freak!" She heard from down an alleyway, Betsy turned to look, seeing three young men in leather jackets with the letters "FoH" stitched on the back attacking a teenage boy with aluminum baseball bats. One of the men swung, the makeshift club connecting soundly with the boy's knee, making him fall to the ground in pain.  
  
"Hey!" Betsy shouted, before even realizing that the words were escaping from her mouth, "why don't you pick on someone who can fight back?" The three men turned, glaring at her, one kicked the fallen mutant in the ribs for good measure.  
  
"Were you talking to us?" One of the men said, twirling his bat in the air.  
  
"Yeah, I was," Psylocke said through clenched teeth, her hands balling up into fists and blades of violet psychic energy appearing out of thin air. She lunged towards the bald man, intending to drive her psi-blades through his skull, but was stopped by a blunt strike to her ribs, knocking her against a brick wall. There had been a forth man hiding in the shadows, also holding a bat.  
  
"She's one of them, boys!" Said the forth man, who was tall, dark, and rather unattractive, "what do you say we kill two muties with one stone?" He took another swing, but Betsy was ready this time, catching the bat in mid-air. The force stung her hand, but she had learned how to block well from her Danger Room training. She swung her other hand at the attacker's head, her psi-blade entering his skull and disrupting his neural pathways. He sunk to the ground, knocked out cold. Psylocke was still trying to get her breath back after the rib-crushing blow delivered to her when the other three men converged on her, hitting with fists and bats. She tried to fight back, but was overpowered. She cursed herself for not bringing her katanas along. Blood trickled out of Betsy's mouth as she fell to the concrete, half of her face was numb, she only wished that the other half had lost feeling, as well. The pummeling stopped momentarily, and she looked up, seeing that the men were distracted.  
  
"Hey, boss, it's another one."  
  
"Look, we handled two of them before, we can handle another one." Although her vision was blurred, Betsy could see a form coming down on the remaining three thugs, she felt the brush of wings, and that was the last thing her mind registered as the darkness of unconciousness took her.  
  
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TO BE CONTINUED  
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	10. Part 10 - Flying

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PART 10  
"Flying"  
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Betsy Braddock stirred, slowly beginning to open her eyes. The world as she saw it as she laid on her back was a blur of white and grey. She began to turn her head, but regretted it when her left cheek touched the surface of whatever she was laying on as pain shot through her battered face. She let out a soft whimper, trying to remember everything that had happened. She had been beaten to a bloody pulp by the Friends of Humanity thugs... then she remembered an apparition, a man with blonde hair and immense wings. An angel? Was she dead? If she was, then why did her face feel like it had been hit by an 18-wheeler? She moved her hand up to touch her forehead, feeling a bandage there that extended down over her left eye, that would explain the blur of white she saw intermingled with the now-clear visions of a well-furnished apartment. She began to sit up, but cried out in pain and laid back down the instant she did so.  
  
"That's probably not a good idea," a man's voice said from behind her, "those neanderthals cracked a couple of your ribs."  
  
"Wh-who are you?" Betsy stammered, her jaw not cooperating with her.  
  
"Just think of me as a guardian angel," he said, walking into her view. It was the handsome face she had seen just before she blacked out. His jaw was set firm, a grim look on his face. His short blonde hair was meticulously styled, his blue eyes kind. "You're lucky that I came when I did, otherwise I probably would have had to taken you to a hospital."  
  
"I feel like I should be there now," she grumbled.  
  
"If they found out the reason you'd been beaten the way you were, they probably wouldn't have treated you. Or have you been living under a rock these past few weeks? We muties aren't exactly on the list of Who's Who. Well, not most of us, anyway," he let out an unamused chuckle, "I'm Warren Worthington III."  
  
"Ah," she said, recognizing the name Worthington as a family of old money, who were still raking in the cash as lucrative businessmen, as well as from the files at the Xavier Institute. "Betsy Braddock."  
  
"I find that hard to believe," he replied, "I know Brian Braddock, and you don't look like the pictures that I've seen of his sister."  
  
"It's a long story," Betsy said with a sad sigh.  
  
"I have time," Warren replied, sitting in a chair where she could see him clearly from where she lay. She saw once again the immense, beautiful wings that she had thought the sign that she was dying and heading towards heaven.  
  
"You have lovely wings," she said, "it must be quite a wonderful thing to fly... I envy you."  
  
"It is very nice to be able to fly, looking down on the world from heights that it seems only natural for a bird to see from, not a man. Unfortunately, it has also been a curse, it's quite difficult to constantly keep them hidden. But you're changing the subject now."  
  
Betsy took a deep breath and began her long tale, starting with her coming to the Xavier Institute, and ending with her return to the ruins of the school. "And that's how I ended up here, I suppose," she said, wiping a tear from her bruised cheek, "I've not seen a sign of my friends since, and I fear the worst."  
  
"Well, according to the news that day, the explosion at the mansion occured at the same time as the Sentinel battle in New York, so it's likely that at least some of your friends survived and have gone into hiding," Warren said, trying to reassure her, not telling her about the capture of some of the X-Men.  
  
Psylocke's face brightened, if only by the smallest fraction. Could some of the X-Men still be alive? She could only hope that she would recover soon and be able to get back on her way to search them out.  
  
"Thank you," Betsy said, "for saving my life, and providing me with such care and hospitality."  
  
"I wouldn't be much of an Angel if I didn't take care of those who needed it most, now would I?" He smiled at her, "Now, you need to get more rest if those wounds are going to heal properly. Just call me if you need anything." He stood and walked out of the room.  
  
Betsy watched him leave, a small smile on her lips. She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off in a peaceful dream... she was flying high above the city, not for any particular purpose, just to soar. She no longer had any worries, not about her friends, they were all safe, not about being rejected for being a mutant, the world was at peace. Elizabeth Braddock was, for those precious hours of sleep, completely free.  
  
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	11. Part 11 - The Invitation

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PART 11  
"The Invitation"  
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Days went by and Betsy slowly regained much of her strength, with her self-appointed guardian angel hovering over her at all times. He made sure that she got plenty of food and fluids to help the natural healing process along. She had to admit, having someone fussing over her all the time was rather pleasant, especially someone as handsome as Warren. She had thanked him several times for his kindness, but he shrugged it off, saying that it was really nothing. Soon, Betsy was out of bed and moving about the apartment. One of the first things she did was re-dye her hair purple again, the first dye job had started to fade and she didn't really like Kwannon's hair color. From the balcony connected to the room she had been sleeping in she had a beautiful view of the lights in the evening and watched the bustling crowd in the daytime. It kept her from going mad with boredom when Warren wasn't hovering over her.  
  
One particular day, Betsy was sitting on her bed watching television when she heard Warren working in the kitchen. She got up and wandered to where he was, coming up behind him when he wasn't looking and lightly poking his side.  
  
"Hey!" he exclaimed, jumping a couple of inches, "there was no reason for that." He smiled at her.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to ruffle your feathers," she giggled at her pun.  
  
"I guess now that you're better you're going to want to go back to searching for the X-Men," Angel said, a hint of disappointment in his voice, which did not go unnoticed by Betsy. She bit her lip, thinking for a few moments. She had grown rather attached to Warren over the past couple weeks and really didn't want to leave him. However, she had also discovered that her friends, or at least some of them, were probably still alive. Could she really abandon them like this? Looking at Warren's deep blue eyes, she knew which she would decide and could only hope that she could forgive herself for giving up her pursuit of the X-Men.  
  
"I want to stay with you," she murmured softly, a smile crossing her lips. She brushed a strand of her hair away from her pale face. As the words came out of her mouth, she paused, thinking about something she had completely forgotten. "But I need to go get some stuff from my hotel room... and... oh no... I can't imagine what the bill must be up to now!"  
  
"Relax," Warren said with a soft laugh, "I already checked out on your behalf and paid. I had one of my maids go and pick up your stuff. He said you had quite an interesting assortment of blades."  
  
She blushed, "Yes, well, I am an assassin after all, I need my weapons."  
  
"Your beauty alone could stop a man's heart." He said. Betsy felt the blood rush to her cheeks and her ears. She glanced at the floor in embarrassment, shuffling her feet against the Italian marble. She felt his strong hand come up under her chin and draw her face up to look at his. They drew closer, Betsy could now smell his cologne. She trembled slightly, nervous, although happy that he had made the first move, it had been something she had been considering for a few days, but was too afraid to say anything. Her thoughts were interrupted as their lips met. He had a wonderfully soft mouth and she thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of it against hers. She could feel her heart beating faster and faster. As he pulled away from her, it felt as though a part of her soul had left her and entered him.  
  
"Th-that was nice," she stammered, her eyes fixed on her bare feet. She nervously twitched her fingers, backing away just a little bit, trying to catch her breath. She managed a quick glance up at his chiseled, handsome features before having to turn away in embarrassment.  
  
"Yes, it was," he replied with a smile. The tender moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. A quiet curse came forth from Angel's lips, "I thought I told William not to send anyone up..." he rapidly folded his wings into his sweater. By the look on his face, Betsy could tell it was not a very comfortable action. "Go into your room... I'll call you out if it's safe." He said in a hushed tone. Betsy quickly made her way into her room, quietly shutting the door. She pressed her ear against the door, listening. She heard the door opening.  
  
"What can I help you with?" she heard Warren say.  
  
"I was wondering if you'd thought about our proposition yet, Mister Worthington," a man's voice said. He had an accent, it seemed to be British, but it seemed fake. Betsy cracked the door open slightly to see if she could get a look at him. He was dressed in Victorian-era clothing, which struck Betsy as rather odd. He had a thin mustache across his lips and a sneer covering his face. He was handsome in his own way, although Betsy felt that somehow his looks were as artificial as his accent.  
  
"I'm not sure yet," Warren replied with an annoyed sigh, "and I'm tired of you coming to my door every day to ask me. If you'll excuse me, Mister Wyngarde, I have company."  
  
"We know," the man replied, "the purple-haired girl. Very pretty, she would make a fine addition to the Hellfire Club's Inner Circle. You know, many of society's elite have been among our ranks. Howard Stark, John Braddock, Sebastian Shaw... your father was even a member, although he left our club because it interfered with his busy schedule." Wyngarde smiled, "Why don't you and your lady friend come tonight, we will be crowning our new White Queen, young Emma Frost" Betsy found it interesting that her relative John had anything to do with this organization, whatever it was. To her, it sounded like some sort of secret society.  
  
"All right," Warren said, "Miss Braddock and I will be in attendance tonight."  
  
"Very good, then!" Wyngarde said with a grin, pulling two small squares of white paper out of his pocket, from where Betsy stood she could see the faint gleam of gold lettering, "just present these to the guards at the door. The ceremony will begin promptly at ten o'clock, please be sure to dress in appropriate attire. Before the end of the night, we hope you and your friend decide to join our elite ranks. People of our kind are especially welcome in the Inner Circle, if you catch my meaning." He winked, patting Angel's concealed wings. He gave a quick bow and left. Warren came back to the door and opened it, looking at Betsy.  
  
  
"We're going to a party tonight," he said, "you can go through the closet to find something to wear." He added with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off as he left the room, "I'll explain on the way." The only thing Betsy could think was that this was going to be a very interesting night.  
  
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TO BE CONTINUED  
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	12. Part 12 - The Inner Circle

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PART 12  
"The Inner Circle"  
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Warren's limo pulled up to the door of the Hellfire Club at 9:55 that evening. His chauffeur opened the door and Angel exited wearing a suit with strong Victorian influences, and Betsy followed, wearing an elegant, floor-length, dark purple dress. Betsy looked around, noticing that most of the people around her were dressed in Victorian-era dress, the men in clothes very similar to Warren's, the women in rather revealing uniforms. The formality of the place made her feel very uncomfortable and she stayed near Warren at all times. They stopped at the doorway to show the guard the invitation presented to them by Mister Wyngarde.  
  
"Ah, the crowning of Miss Frost, yes, you will want to take the left hallway and go down the stairs." The guard replied, pointing out the way.  
  
As they walked through the expensively decorated building, Betsy found herself mesmerized by all the fixtures of gold and crystals. This place probably cost as much as the Xavier Institute, if not more. The place had a stuffiness about it that stifled Betsy as she politely nodded to everyone that they passed by. They proceeded down the stairs and found themselves in a room lit dimly by candles. There were several people seated in the small dark room, and Warren and Betsy quickly found somewhere to be seated as someone stood up at the front of the room, his face illuminated by the candles, giving him a ghostly appearance. He had jet black hair and wore sideburns, complementing very well the Victorian clothing he wore.  
  
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen on the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club," the man said, "as you very well know, my name is Sebastian Shaw. I am here to introduce our leader, Jason Wyngarde, and, taking her place n the Inner Circle as the White Queen, Miss Emma Frost." The man bowed out of sight, and the man who had come to visit Warren's apartment the evening before appeared, followed by a girl of no more than nineteen. She was very attractive, with shoulder-length blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. Her clothes were like those of the other women in the Hellfire Club, a white corset and a very short white skirt, with thigh-high boots. Men must have designed the clothing to be worn here, Betsy thought to herself.  
  
"Tonight is a very important night, ladies and gentlemen. It marks the first day of the reign of White Queen Emma Frost. We are sure that she and Black Queen Selene will get along quite well, and will help our group fulfill both its long term and short term goals. Emma, please step forward." The girl complied, standing up beside Wyngarde. Her face was filled with excitement at the prospect of becoming the new queen, but she maintained an air of coolth about her. "Emma Frost, are you ready to assume the responsibilities that come with being the White Queen of the Hellfire Club? To serve and defend the Inner Circle, and give your full efforts to our goal of mutant domination?" Betsy turned several shades of pale. She wrapped her fingers around Warren's arm and whispered softly to him.  
  
"I want to go... now!"  
  
"Don't you think it might be better if we stayed, became members? We might be able to discover their plans and thwart them." Warren said reasonably. Betsy squirmed in her seat, watching the ceremony continue. Emma now had a white cloak wrapped around her, and Wyngarde was now proclaiming her the new White Queen. Everyone clapped, including Betsy, although it took everything in her to do anything that supported this group. Warren made her stay a while afterwards, so as not to be rude. Wyngarde approached them shortly after the ceremony ended, Emma Frost by his side.  
  
"I hope this meeting has convinced the both of you to join our club... now, Mister Worthington, perhaps you understand why we felt it so important that you join us here?" Wyngarde said, a sly smile across his face. Emma, meanwhile, was eyeing Psylocke suspiciously. Betsy tried her best to put up mental blocks so that any psychics in the room would be unable to read her thoughts.  
  
"Oh, yes, quite," Warren replied, sounding sincere enough that Betsy was even beginning to wonder, "both Elizabeth and I would love to become full-time members."  
  
"Ah, yes, this is Miss Braddock, how do you do? I am Jason Wyngarde, known as 'Mastermind,' to most everyone here." He gave a gracious bow.  
  
"Yes, a pleasure," Emma said flatly, a frustrated grimace on her lips. Perhaps, Betsy thought, she was one of the psychics that she'd been concerned about having her mind read by.  
  
"Quite," Betsy replied politely, "but Warren and I were just leaving, I'm sorry we can't stay to chat." After they had all exchanged farewells, Betsy drew him out of the room.  
  
"Do you really think this is a good idea?" she murmured.  
  
"I think it would be a bad idea not to join this group and find out what they intend to do," he replied, "anyhow, I doubt anything bad will happen to us."  
  
"Famous last words," Betsy said with a sigh as they entered his limo and headed back home.  
  
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TO BE CONTINUED  
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	13. Part 13 - The Hawk Returns

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PART 13  
"The Hawk Returns"  
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Betsy and Warren got back to the apartment around 1 o'clock in the morning. Betsy sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly and walked to the door of her room. She looked back to see Warren standing in front of the fireplace in silent thought. She walked up behind him and slid an arm around his waist.  
  
"What are you thinking about," she asked. He looked at her, placing an arm around her shoulder.  
  
"What we can do to stop those people," he replied, "I mean, there's just two of us, there's a few dozen of them."  
  
"When the time comes, I'm sure we'll be able to stop them," Betsy said with a smile, "but for now I'm going to bed." She kissed him on the cheek, "Goodnight, my Angel," she winked. She then went into her room and closed the door, slipping out of the dress she wore and getting into a light blue silk nightgown. She sat on the bed, brushing her hair and smiling in thought. She had been very lucky to find Warren, he had almost completely taken her mind off of the X-Men. She had decided that this was her fate, to be by his side and to help him stop the plans of the Hellfire Club. She could only hope and pray that the X-Men were all still alive and well. As she thought about the meeting tonight, the image of Emma Frost continually entered her mind. The older girl had given Betsy a very bad feeling, something was not quite right about her, but Psylocke tried very hard to push these thoughts to the back of her mind. Frost was just another telepath, no one to be afraid of. Betsy put her comb down on the night table at her bedside and laid down, curling up under the covers, holding them tight against herself. She looked out the window seeing the starry sky and watched the breeze blow through the curtains. But she had closed the window when she left with Warren, she thought. A chill shot down her spine. Suddenly, she felt cool metal resting against her throat.  
  
"Scream and you die, little butterfly," the voice froze Psylocke's blood. It was very familiar to her. In fact, she once identified it as her own.  
  
"What do you want from me, Kwannon?" Betsy's voice quivered, her entire body shaking with fear.  
  
"You took everything from me, you little witch. First my body, then Matsu'o's trust! I went back to him after I awakened, he tried to have me killed, believing that I was you, but I, naturally, bested his guards. It took some convincing, but he eventually believed that I was once his lover. I am here to relieve you of my body. If I can't have it, I certainly am not going to allow some little girl to possess it." She came around to look Psylocke in the face, holding the katana firmly against Betsy's throat.  
  
"You would do something so dishonorable as to not even let me have a fair fight?" Betsy asked.  
  
"I'm an assassin, not a warrior," Kwannon corrected with a smile, "however, I would very much enjoy a struggle with you. You bested me in psychic combat, this is true, but I'm quite confident that I can best you in physical combat, even in this pathetic excuse for a body. We have no need to worry about your precious Angel hearing us fight, I incapacitated him before I entered your room."  
  
"If you hurt him..."  
  
"I did no such thing. He was not my target, merely an innocent bystander. Now, get the katana at your bedside and we shall discover who is truly the superior fighter." Kwannon lifted the blade from Betsy's throat, and Psylocke picked up the katana, quickly jumping to her feet. Her hair blew in the wind, and the nightgown she wore restricted her movement somewhat. She swept the blade in a striking maneuver at Kwannon's head. The ninja easily blocked it, counteracting in a way which effectively threw Psylocke off balance.  
  
"So aggressive," Kwannon said, swinging at Betsy. Their swords clashed together, the sound of metal grating against metal filled the air, "I like it... it's a shame I have to kill you." She grinned and the battle continued. Neither of the two gave quarter, however, it was clear that Kwannon was the superior sword-fighter. The assassin estimated one blow incorrectly and sliced off a piece of Psylocke's left shoulder. The girl ignored the wound, the blood pouring out onto her nightgown, and continued the fight. "I think after I finish you, I'll see if I can track down Xavier and the rest of your friends," she said, smiling. Betsy began to attack more aggressively, but Kwannon had been counting on that. "I think I'll start with that one who always wears the sunglasses, what is his name? Oh, yes... Scott." Betsy managed to connect one blow with Kwannon's right thigh. The woman winced, but continued to fight.  
  
"Leave my friends alone!" Psylocke began to gain ground, catching Kwannon off guard by using the training that was ingrained in her mind. She just barely deflected a blow by Kwannon intended to remove her head. Betsy abandoned the use of her sword for a moment, and delivered a sharp kick to Kwannon's hand, knocking the katana from her hand. The assassin managed to easily disarm Psylocke, as well, and the two began to exchange blows in this fashion. The battle was beautiful in an incredibly violent way, the grace of the two combatants rivaling that of the most talented ballet dancers. Betsy was quickly beginning to fade, however, and was beginning to feel every single blow that was delivered to her. She gritted her teeth and unleashed a powerful mental blow on Kwannon that caught the assassin completely off guard. Betsy used the opportunity provided by this momentary distracting to get in a few extra hits, knocking Kwannon backwards toward the window. "You won't ever hurt anyone ever again!" She shouted, delivering a final kick to Kwannon's head. The woman stumbled backwards, losing her balance and falling out the window with a cry of defeat. Betsy was tempted to watch her foe fall to her doom, but didn't have the energy. She merely collapsed to the floor, sweating, bleeding, and crying. The battle had been won.  
  
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	14. Part 14 In the Arms of an Angel

Wasn't "Day of Recovery" great? I can't wait til this Saturday to find out what happens with the Morlocks and what the Brotherhood plans on doing now that they're alone and without a home. I only hope the Acolytes return (hey, gotta get my Gambit quota, if the writers aren't going to give me Betsy!)  
  
And by the way, Faramir, Betsy can defeat Wolverine by countering his uppercut with a few psy-knife blows to the skull... not even adamantium can keep that out. ;) (In case everyone else is wondering, Faramir is a buddy of mine off-line, who consistently defeats me on X-Men: Mutant Academy using Wolverine.)  
  
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PART 14  
"In the Arms of an Angel"  
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It took several moments before Betsy could bring herself to stand, she lightly touched the wound on her shoulder, letting out a soft cry as she realized that the wound had cut almost clean through to the bone. She peered out the window, down the unimaginable number of stories to the street to see her defeated foe, but she didn't see a body anywhere on the street, just broken shards of glass and people standing around, looking up, pointing at the window she stared out of. Her heart leapt into her throat and an icy chill crawled over her skin. Kwannon had somehow survived the fall. But that was impossible! But then, where had the body gone? The police hadn't even arrived yet, or an ambulance. Betsy's arch-nemesis was still alive. Betsy stumbled backwards from the window, her eyes wide with horror at the thought. She then remembered Warren, what had the beast done to him? She rushed out of her room and into his and saw him sleeping peacefully, his wings spread beautifully. Kwannon hadn't incapacitated him as she had said, she had been that confident in her skill in combat, as well as stealth. Betsy stepped into his room, beginning to feel a bit dizzy from lack of blood.  
  
"Warren," she called. His wings twitched. She spoke again and his eyes blinked open.  
  
"Betsy?" He said, not seeing her clearly yet because of the darkness and the sleep in his eyes. Warren reached for the light switch and turned it on, and gasped in horror when he saw the disheveled, bleeding mess that was Elizabeth Braddock. "What happened?" He leapt out of bed, "are you all right?" It was a stupid question, but natural instinct to ask. Warren observed her wounds, her gory shoulder, the vary cuts from hand-to-hand combat with Kwannon, and a swollen, purple cheek. She looked just as bad as when he had rescued her from the thugs on the street.  
  
"I had a visitor," she said weakly, "Kwannon came to exact revenge... I managed to... to..." she started to cry, "I pushed her out the window... but... she survived... she'll be back, Warren. She's going to hurt the X-Men, and you..." She collapsed against Warren, sobbing. He did his best to comfort her without touching any of her injuries, then finally spoke softly.  
  
"We'll worry about that later," he said, pulling her back a bit so he could look into her eyes, "for now, we have to see what we can do about that arm." He called up his family doctor, who just happened to live in the same building as Warren, and the man came over as quickly as he could. He was an old friend of the family, and knew about the secret of Angel, a secret not even Warren's parents were aware of. He knew the man was trustworthy. Angel laid Betsy down on the couch, ignoring the bloodstains that she caused on the expensive furniture, only concerned with her well-being. There came a knock on the door a few moments later and Warren, not even bothering to conceal his wings checked through the peephole then unlocked and opened the door, letting in Doctor Roberts. As he explained the situation, the doctor nodded as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.  
  
Doctor Roberts was a kind, older man, with silver hair, although most of it was gone now. He always told Warren that his job was to care for those who were sick or wounded, he didn't care how they got that way, nor did he care who they were. Warren watched as the doctor went to work repairing Betsy's arm and patched up her other wounds.  
  
"She'll need those stitches out in a few days, call me if you need anything else. And don't worry, I won't breathe a word of this to anyone else." Warren thanked the man several times and showed him to the door. Betsy gave a small smile to him as she laid on the couch.  
  
"He's nice," she murmured.  
  
"Yes, he is. He was actually the man who inspired me to use my powers to help others. He told me that I looked like an angel with my wings, that the world needed more angels. I thought it sounded like a good idea," he smiled a bit, sitting next to Betsy on the couch and kissing her forehead lightly. "Now you rest, close your eyes." She reached out to grasp his hand tightly.  
  
"Stay with me," she said, afraid to be alone. He nodded.  
  
"I'll stay, all through the night. I'll watch over you." He replied warmly, gently stroking her uninjured cheek. Betsy slowly drifted off to sleep, feeling secure with an Angel by her side.  
  
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	15. Part 15 A Prison in His Mind An Interl...

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PART 15  
"A Prison in His Mind - An Interlude"  
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Amahl Farouk studied his wallless prison bitterly. The swirling colors surrounding him would have been considered by many to be beautiful, but to him they were a nuisance. He was a person who preferred the blackness of shadows, and had once proclaimed himself the Shadow King, so many years ago. He had stopped counting the days long ago, so he did not know exactly how long he had been in his prison. In this place, he could take on any appearance that he liked, be it bird or beast, but there was no way for him to escape. He passionately hated the man who had trapped him here, the man he had met in Cairo, Egypt that fateful day. The man who bested him in a psychic duel on these very grounds, the grounds of the mind, the Astral Plane, where all great psychics battle. The man who was called Charles Xavier. It had been so long ago, that Farouk couldn't even remember what started the argument that had ended in his imprisonment. A sudden burst of sound disrupted the Shadow King's reminisces. The mental transmission from one psychic to another, the constant chatter threatened to drive Farouk past the point of insanity, or at least, further than he already was past it. Occasionally he tried to seize hold of these mental transmissions and trace them to their source, trying to take possession of the body that had sent them, but a firm hand always slapped him away. In the stream of babble going on now, however, he heard something that attracted his attention.  
  
"Professor Xavier... Jean, anyone! This is Betsy! Please, let me know if you're all right. I've been searching for you for weeks," the cry was so pathetic that it brought joy to Farouk's heart.  
  
"So, one of Xavier's students is looking for her mentor. He has gone missing? Perhaps he is dead... no, that would be hoping for too much." He stretched out a hand, and was shocked to find that the barriers that had confined him for so long were gone. He grinned, reaching out further towards the mind of the girl, Betsy Braddock, and gently touched it. She was powerful, that was for certain, he thought, but she would not be capable of resisting the Shadow King. Farouk would once again be free soon. He closed his eyes and began to prepare his mind for what would be a brief, pathetic battle.  
  
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Betsy laid on Warren's couch, still recovering from her battle with Kwannon. As she telepathically searched for her friends, she felt a presence in her mind. The blackness of the soul it belonged to sent a shiver down her spine. She decided to ignore the sensation, however, and continued reaching out for her companions.  
  
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	16. Part 16 Hope Found and Lost

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PART 16  
"Hope - Found and Lost"  
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Gentle beams of sunlight warmed Betsy's sleeping features, giving her a soft reminder that it was time to wake up. With a yawn and a stretch, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath, instantly finding a reminder of her battle with Kwannon as a sharp pain shot through her side. She sighed and laid back, smiling as white feathers tickled her nose. She turned to see that Warren had fallen asleep on the floor beside her, he had kept his promise to watch over her all night. Betsy reached out and softly stroked his powerful wings and whispered to him.  
  
"Warren... wake up, love, it's morning," she leaned over and lightly brushed her lips against his cheek. His eyes slowly opened and looked up at her, he grinned.  
  
"My wings are going to be stiff for a week from sleeping down here," he muttered, sitting up and stretching his unusual appendages to their full length.  
  
"The watchful eye was much appreciated, my dear," she said with a sigh. They exchanged a quick kiss and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Cooking was not one of Warren's great skills, Betsy thought to herself as she forced herself to swallow the burnt eggs he had prepared. She managed to get through it without making a face, and turned as Warren put the morning news on. "You know I hate to watch the news in the morning," she groaned, "there's never anything positive on---" she paused for a moment, her eyes growing wide as the screen showed the image of several costumed teenagers battling a giant wearing a strange dome-like helmet on his head.  
  
"We're watching images of the X-Men, a team of teenage mutants trained by Charles Xavier, battling a mutant identified as the Juggernaut," the anchorman, Frank Lee, said, "these events took place last night, and greatly aided in the Senate's decision to pardon the X-Men from the destruction caused by the Sentinel incident. In related news, Charles Xavier was found several hours after the battle, imprisoned in the same cell that the Juggernaut had occupied." Betsy brought her hand up to her mouth, letting out a soft gasp. Her search was over, the X-Men were alive! A small smile crossed Warren's mouth.  
  
"Well, I guess this means you're going to be off to find them," he said, trying very hard not to sound disappointed. Betsy nodded slowly.  
  
"Just to let them know that I am still alive," she said, looking to him, "I have every intention of staying here with you, Warren." He smiled at her, crossing the living room to give her a light kiss. As their lips met, Betsy felt the same horrific chill she had felt the previous evening as she used her telepathic abilities to reach out to Jean and the Professor. She closed her eyes, backing away from Warren, clutching at her head as it suddenly began to throb painfully.  
  
"Hello, Elizabeth," she heard a chilling voice say softly. It seemed to be coming from all around her. She opened her eyes to find herself in complete darkness, hearing an occasional psychic echo. She supposed that she had once again returned to the Astral Plane, that would explain her sudden change in locale. "I hate to crush your sudden joy, but I am afraid that I am going to need your body for my own purposes." A horrific face suddenly appeared in front of her. Betsy let out a scream and leapt back, the features disturbed her so greatly. The grinning head featured two glowing red eyes and an abnormally wide mouth. Slowly, a body materialized underneath the head. It was large and sinewy, with long, sharp claws for fingers, its skin was a deep shade of blue. The face grinned, a truly gruesome sight, for its teeth were long and dagger like.  
  
"Wh-who are you?" she stammered, her entire Astral form shaking in fear.  
  
"I am the Shadow King, my dear," he said, reaching out one of his finger talons to softly stroke her cheek, "the man who is now the guard to the prison your very soul shall be locked in forever."  
  
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TO BE CONTINUED  
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	17. Part 17 Battle of the Shadows

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PART 17  
"Battle of the Shadows"  
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Betsy felt a chill spread throughout her astral form as she stared at the monster before her. His grotesque face was twisted into a perverse smile, as if he enjoyed the feeling he got from depriving her of the joy of seeing her friends again.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me," she asked, backing away from his hand. Her right hand tightened into a fist, pink psychic energy appearing around it, slowly forming into a glowing dagger. She brought it up in a defensive posture, ready to fight the moment the man made a move towards her.  
  
"Do you really think you can harm me with such toys, child," the Shadow King hissed, drawing closer to Betsy again. She swung, a blow that should have connected with his astral body, but it simply passed through him, "I am a master of shadows, my dear... an enemy with which you could not even dream of contending with." He swung a taloned hand across her midsection, tearing into her. She let out a scream that echoed all throughout the Astral Plane. "There is no way you can win."  
  
"Professor Xavier! Help me, please!" Betsy cried out, hoping to see the kind old man's astral projection appear next to her, but no one came to her rescue. She stared coldly at the Shadow King, a deep hatred welling up from the pit of her stomach. The eyes of her astral form began to glow bright yellow.  
  
"No one can help you now, girl," he said, "you cannot match my power, it is a waste for you to even try." He took another swing, but this time Betsy was ready, ducking his blow and moving out of the way. Betsy tried to concentrate on the dark energies that the Shadow King was a master of, tried to grasp hold of them and use them to her advantage. She found the energies to be frighteningly cold. A chill ran throughout her as she channeled the power through her entire astral form. She felt her body begin to turn colder as she wrapped herself in a sort of shadow armor, now she was covered from head to toe in the same blackness that the Shadow King seemed to be made of. The look of surprise on his face was worth the effort. "Perhaps I have underestimated you, Elizabeth, but it is of no consequence. I will still defeat you, in time." He swung his claws at her again, but this time she brought up her dagger to block, shadow energies flowing through the dark purple blade. The Shadow King snarled, making another attack, only to have it blocked. After a few more failed swipes, the man once known as Farouk was becoming visibly tired. He backed off, concentrating his energies, and slowly seemed to begin to grow in size, grinning wickedly as he did so.  
  
"You foolish child! This could have been easy for you, but now I shall have to show you what the Shadow King is truly capable of." He had grown to twice the height of Betsy's astral form, his talons were the size of trees.  
  
"Bring it on," Betsy said, feigning confidence. She made an offensive move, slicing at the Shadow King's leg. It connected, and he let out a grunt of pain, followed by a swipe of his hand which sent Betsy tumbling. She recovered as quickly as possible and went back to work, trying desperately to not show any sign of weakness. Her will was being put to the test yet again, and as she had shown Kwannon, she refused to be dominated. Each blow that followed flashed brilliant colors of purple and pink. The astral landscape around the pair of combatants lit up with their individual psychic energy signatures. After what seemed like an eternity of combat both combatants were beginning to grow tired, but neither was willing to give the other the victory. Being battling in defense of her body, Betsy had the advantage of having something to hold on to, the promise of being able to continue to live. This drove her on, forcing her to recognize that this was no game she was playing, she had to strive to win, or the consequences would be dire. Betsy summoned up every last ounce of energy she had, her blade growing in size until it resembled the psychic katana which Kwannon used, rather than the short dagger she normally used. During the battle, she had grown strangely accustom to the coldness of the shadows she had wrapped herself in, and might even have said that she was comfortable in the form. She leapt high in the air, driving her blade into the Shadow King's midsection. He let out a loud howl which resounded all throughout the Astral Plane, the psychic landscape around him seeming to be caught up in an earthquake of terrible proportions. He staggered backwards as Betsy landed back down on the ground, or what she perceived to be the ground, anyhow.  
  
"This is impossible! I cannot believe that I have been struck so fatally by a mere child," he said, his eye glowing red with injured fury. He charged at her to try to strike her with a blow as fatal as the one she had delivered to him, but she was ready.  
  
"Believe it or not, it's over, chum," she concentrated hard, summoning up every ounce of her psychic energy and shot it at him, covering every part of his astral being with it. Soon the Shadow King was completely ensnared in a net of pink and purple psychic energy. "Well, it's been real fun, but I'm afraid I have to go." She said, not letting on just how much effort she had to put in trapping him there. Betsy watched him for a few moments as he struggled against her trap, but all his efforts were in vain.  
  
"You have not heard the last from me, Betsy," he said, his voice full of an eerie calm, "the moment you ease up on your concentration, the very second you use your psychic powers for anything besides holding me here, I will escape. You know that as well as I do, and when that day comes, the Shadow King will come knocking on your door, and this time I will be prepared to finish you."  
  
"Tough talk," Betsy said, "but we will see whose will is stronger, now won't we?" With that, she vanished from his sight, leaving him all alone again, in a new prison of the mind.  
  
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Betsy found herself in a position that had become very familiar to her, laying on Warren's couch, her Angel hovering over her with a concerned look on his face.  
  
"Betsy, it's good to see that you came back around. You fainted after you saw the X-Men on TV," he smiled a bit, "I didn't think you be quite so excited to see your teammates, but I'm glad to see you're happy." She paused for a moment, considering whether or not she should tell him what really went on. Betsy decided that perhaps it would be best that she not tell him, and merely keep the secret to herself.  
  
"Yes, very happy," she said with a smile. It was then that she realized that the world around her had grown very quiet. She no longer had the constant assault of people's thoughts pressing through her skull, trying to invade her mind. She was alone in the universe, with only Warren by her side. In some ways, it was a relief, although she still had to concentrate her psychic powers on keeping the Shadow King imprisoned, but somehow it also left her feeling very much alone.  
  
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TO BE CONTINUED  
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